If there is one thing we are certain of in life, it’s the fact that people have an opinion. Some will even try to voice that opinion as loud as possible, despite the fact that very few people are listening.
The Internet really makes it easy for anyone to have such an opinion and to voice it for the world to hear. The funny thing is that the stranger the opinion, the more press it seems to receive.
That is what one expert is now experiencing, thanks to their unusual recommendation for parents. They are a self-proclaimed relationship expert, and they said that parents should ask for permission before changing a diaper.
We realize that there are a lot of issues revolving around consent these days, and it can be difficult to navigate them. As far as many parents are concerned, however, asking a baby’s permission before changing a dirty diaper is just out of the question.
To be honest, most parents are not very happy about the fact that they have to change diapers but it is a necessity if you are going to raise your children happy and healthy. Adding the extra layer of having to ask permission before doing so is above and beyond.
The woman who made this claim says that she is a ‘sexuality educator, speaker, and author.’ Her name is Deanne Carson and her unusual recommendation for parents is making waves.
She was on ABC in 2018 to share these insights. She said that this is typically done with children above the age of three but she also feels that consent is important to introduce at a much younger age.
She does admit that babies will not be able to verbally respond to the request for consent, but they should be able to give nonverbal communication with eye contact and in other forms.
She claims that it’s about setting up a culture of consent in the home, and asking if it is okay to change the nappy before doing so.
Carson went further to explain the process, saying that allowing a moment for anticipation and waiting for any nonverbal cues can help parents and toddlers communicate on a deeper level.
Perhaps the most interesting thing was the way the reporters reacted to the suggestion. Not only were they very verbal, but they were also wondering what would happen if the baby said no.
I SPENT MY PROM DRESS MONEY TO HELP A HOMELESS MAN — THE NEXT DAY, HE SHOWED UP AT PROM WITH A LUXURY GIFT
The worn vinyl of the bus seat creaked beneath me as I clutched the envelope, its crisp edges softened by the warmth of my hand. Inside, the money my mom and grandma had painstakingly saved—my prom dress fund. The pink, shimmering gown that would transform me, even for one night, into the princess I’d always dreamed of being.
The bus rattled along, the familiar rhythm a comforting backdrop to my anticipation. At the next stop, the doors hissed open, and two figures boarded, their presence immediately shifting the atmosphere. They weren’t passengers; they were enforcers, their uniforms a stark contrast to the everyday clothes of the other riders.
Their attention fell upon an elderly man, his clothes tattered and his face etched with worry. He sat hunched in a corner seat, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. The enforcers approached him, their voices sharp and demanding.
“Ticket, sir,” one of them barked.
The man’s hands trembled as he fumbled in his pockets, his eyes wide with a desperate plea. “Please, I… I don’t have one. I’m trying to get to my daughter. She’s sick, and I have to take her to the hospital. Please, I’m begging you.”
The enforcers were unmoved. “Fine,” one of them stated, his voice flat. “You’ll have to pay a fine.”
The man’s shoulders slumped. The despair in his eyes was a physical weight, a crushing burden that filled the bus. I couldn’t bear it. The thought of my own mother, sick and helpless, flashed through my mind. What if she needed help, and no one cared?
Without a second thought, I stood up, my heart pounding in my chest. I took a deep breath, the crisp air filling my lungs with a sudden rush of determination. “I’ll pay his fine!” I declared, extending the envelope towards the enforcers.
The bus fell silent. The enforcers exchanged surprised glances, then looked at me, then at the man. I didn’t waver. I knew, deep down, that this was the right thing to do. Some things were more important than a dress, even a dream dress.
The enforcers, after a moment of hesitation, accepted the money. The elderly man’s eyes filled with tears, and he rushed towards me, his voice choked with gratitude. “Thank you, thank you, child. You’ve saved my daughter’s life.”
He thanked me over and over, his voice a trembling whisper, before hurrying off the bus, his urgency palpable. I watched him go, a strange mix of relief and a tiny pang of sadness swirling within me.
The next day, prom was a whirlwind of glitter and laughter. I wore a simple dress borrowed from a friend, feeling a little out of place but strangely content. I’d told my mom and grandma what happened, and they’d hugged me, their eyes filled with pride.
As the music swelled, and couples swayed on the dance floor, a commotion erupted near the entrance. I turned to see what was happening, and my breath caught in my throat.
Standing there, amidst the sea of shimmering gowns and tailored suits, was the elderly man from the bus, his face beaming. Beside him stood a young woman, her face pale but her eyes bright. And in his hands, he held a large, velvet-wrapped box.
He walked towards me, his steps slow but steady. “My dear child,” he said, his voice ringing with warmth. “I wanted to thank you properly. You saved my daughter, and I can never repay you. But I hope this small token will express my gratitude.”
He presented the box to me. I opened it, my fingers trembling. Inside, nestled on a bed of satin, was a dress. Not just any dress, but a masterpiece. It was pink, shimmering, and exquisitely crafted. It was the dress of my dreams, even more beautiful than I had imagined.
“My daughter,” the man explained, his eyes filled with tears, “she’s a seamstress. She made this for you, with all her heart.”
I was speechless, tears welling up in my eyes. The dress was perfect, a symbol of the kindness I had shown and the kindness I had received in return. That night, I didn’t just feel like a princess. I felt like a hero, and I knew that some things, some moments, were worth more than all the dresses in the world.
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